The Traitor
by Kittystitch
Summary: In war, sometimes it's hard to know who your friends are.


_Author's note: This follows the events in "The Innocence Mission". While it's not necessary to read that first, it might help_.

**THE TRAITOR**

This was their third time through the new obstacle course this afternoon, and Chief wasn't sure how much longer his muscles were going to hold out. Whatever sadistic jackass had designed this one probably didn't actually mean for it to be run multiple times in the same day. As he slithered through the mud pit yet again, he felt his rifle catch on the barbed wire just inches above his head. He scooted back, untangled the gun, and sank deeper into the mud.

As he reached the end of the pit, he caught up with Casino, who was having his own difficulties snagging his gun and clothes on the sharp barbs. Casino slid backward suddenly, kicking him in the head and splattering mud in his face. "Hey! Watch it!"

"Don't crowd me, Geronimo."

"Try movin' a little faster."

"Try gettin' outta my way."

That did it. He'd had enough of Casino's lip. Chief grabbed for the pants leg in front of him. The muddy fabric slipped from his grasp as Casino scrambled out from beneath the barbed wire and sprinted for the climbing wall. Chief pushed himself through the last few feet of muck, threw his rifle to the ground, and charged toward the wall, reaching it just as Casino grabbed for the third rung. This time his grip held, and he jerked downward. Casino lost his purchase, slid down the rough wood surface, and stumbled.

Chief pounced on him, hitting him solidly across the face. Casino lashed out with his own powerful swing, and Chief fell backward, hitting the ground hard. Casino was on top of him, ready to swing again, when he heard the familiar shout.

"Knock it off!" Garrison caught Casino's upraised arm, giving Chief the chance to recover and attack again. But Actor grabbed him firmly by the shirt collar, abruptly halting his forward momentum.

"This is supposed to be a team exercise, not a free-for-all."

Casino jerked his arm away from Garrison and struggled to his feet. "Yeah, well someone needs to explain the team concept to Geronimo here."

"Get off my back..." Chief surged to his feet, but Actor clutched both of his arms from behind.

Casino almost swung again, until Garrison shoved him away.

"What is it with you two? You've been acting like a couple of fourth graders in a school yard. Anybody want to explain?"

Chief knew the smoldering look in Casino's eyes. He'd seen it in other men, and it never ended well. This wasn't over. The loud-mouthed safe cracker was going to have to learn to back off. Chief tried to wipe the blood from his split lip but only left a smear of mud in its place. Casino cooled too, taking a step back and raking his hand through his grimy, wet hair.

"Alright," Garrison conceded with a sigh. "That's enough. Get cleaned up and meet me in the map room. We have a new assignment. And you two...whatever it is, work it out. Without violence."

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Chief settled onto the window sill and took a careful sip from his cup. The coffee was hot, and stung his lip. He touched the cut with his tongue. It wasn't bad. It would heal in a day or two. The bruise turning purple on Casino's cheek would take longer.

The others had taken their usual seats around the map room conference table as they waited for the Warden. They'd showered and changed, but they all looked the way he felt. He stretched out his right leg, feeling the stiffness beginning in the knee he'd twisted on the rope wall. Some of the starch was gone from Actor's usual aristocratic bearing. Goniff had limped to his chair and fallen into an exhausted slump. Those two were in the middle of an argument that had begun at breakfast, but most of the heat had evaporated.

"No way Wales can win," Goniff insisted. "Jimmy Hagan's the best forward Sheffield ever had. He'll score the bloomers off'n those Welsh blighters."

"I beg to differ. England did not fare so well in the last match..."

"Willin' to put your money where your mouth is?" Goniff pulled a wad of bills from his hip pocket and shook it at the con man.

The door pushed open, and Garrison strode in with a thick file folder under his arm. He gave Actor and Goniff a skeptical look as he dropped the folder onto the table. "Football? Really?"

"I know, right?" Casino leaned his chair back on two legs, feet propped on the table. "They've been goin' at it all day. And it ain't even like it's real football, just a bunch o' guys in shorts kickin' a ball around."

Chief was anxious to get this over with. He pushed away from the window and approached the table. "So what's the mission?"

"A continuation of an old one."

Chief felt a spark of apprehension, but he let Garrison continue. "A few months ago, an Army Intelligence agent operating in the States disappeared. We now believe he's a double agent working with the Resistance in northern France, and giving everything he knows to his Nazi handlers."

"So we find him and knock him off, right? Sounds easy enough." Casino crushed out his cigarette and reached for his coffee cup.

"Not exactly. We want to use him, feed him false information. The problem is..."

"Yep, I knew it! There's always a problem."

"The problem is there are no pictures of him. Our ace in the hole is the Army Intelligence officer who was his stateside handler, one of the few people who can identify him."

"So this Intelligence officer is coming with us." Actor didn't sound happy about the prospect.

"No way, Warden," Casino protested. "We don't need nobody else to babysit on a mission. You know how that always turns out."

"Captain David Price is no green horn desk jockey. He's one of the Intelligence Service's best. He's spent the last two years shutting down undercover cells and black market operations in the States. He's coming with us."

"Has he ever been behind enemy lines before?" Actor always hated working with amateurs.

"No. But he'll be fine, believe me."

"And how do you know this?"

"He was my Cadet Commander at the Point. He can handle himself. He's on his way here now."

Garrison flipped open the folder and rifled through a few pages. "We suspect this guy has hooked up with one of two Maquis cells in northern France. I've asked the leaders of both cells to arrange a meeting of their members. We'll observe from a safe distance, and hopefully Captain Price can identify our traitor."

"And the cell leaders can be trusted?"

"You know Andre and Louis. And I've worked with them for almost two years. My gut tells me we can."

The blare of the intercom cut off further discussion. Garrison hesitated briefly, a shadow fleeting across his face, then he moved to reply. "Yes, Sergeant Major?"

"Captain Price is here, sir. He's on his way up."

"Thank you."

He stepped back to the table and knocked Casino's feet to the floor. "You guys behave."

"Don't we always?" Casino grinned.

The door swung open, and Garrison turned and snapped a salute to the officer who entered.

Chief couldn't remember ever seeing the Warden so straight-up military, even with officers of much higher rank. This Captain was not quite as tall as Garrison, but was muscular, broad-shouldered and ram rod straight. He displayed his authority like every screw Chief had ever known, with swagger and arrogance, daring anyone to cross him.

The Captain returned the Warden's salute, but flashed at broad smile and reached out a hand. "Craig Garrison! Never thought I'd find you still in an officer's uniform. You're looking good."

"You too, Captain. It's good to see you."

"Drop the formalities. It's David. We go back too far."

"David." Garrison's smile didn't quite make it to his eyes.

"So this is your team." Price stepped past Garrison to the head of the table.

"Casino, Chief, Goniff, Actor. This is Captain David Price."

Always the gentlemen, only Actor stood to shake Price's hand. "Captain Price. You and the Lieutenant were at West Point together?"

"Yeah, for two years." Price slapped Garrison on the back. "Craig had the misfortune of being in my Cadet Company. Walked off your share of hours in the yard, as I recall. Right, Craig?"

The Warden lowered his head briefly, something uncomfortable pulling at the corners of his mouth, and he changed the subject. "I was just briefing the men on the mission."

"Yeah, I have a question." Casino raised his hand like a school boy in math class. "This double agent you were supposed to be handlin' in the states - you had no idea he was a traitor? How'd that get past you?"

Price frowned at Casino for a moment, and Casino returned the stare with a cocky smirk. Then Price addressed the entire group. "Theodore Leitner was born in Berlin and raised in New York from the age of three. He was privy to a lot of sensitive information. He's smart and dangerous, and I'm anxious to find him."

Chief slipped the knife from its sheath, snapped it open with a click he knew the Captain heard, and twirled it twice. He asked the question he already knew the answer to. "Which old mission we talkin' about, Warden?"

"We believe Leitner had something to do with luring us into the trap at La Capelle and ambushing us at Calais."

"Alright then! That's my kinda mission," Casino grinned. "And I bet Geronimo's got a score to settle with him, too." He reached back and gave Chief a backhanded slap in the stomach.

Chief swatted Casino's hand away. "Back off, dad!"

"That's it, Indian!" Casino shot out of his chair and spun around. "Get that chip off your shoulder, or I'm gonna knock it off."

"Enough!" Garrison shoved between them, and Chief felt his shirt wadded tightly in the Warden's grip. He had the same hold on Casino, who was pushing back. "I don't know what's gotten into you two, but it better be settled by tomorrow. Got it?"

Chief jerked free of Garrison's hold and stowed the knife, but he didn't lose Casino's angry glare.

"Got it?!" Garrison repeated.

"Yeah, we got it." Casino straightened his shirt and slid back into his chair.

"Now pack your gear and get some rest. We fly out at 07:00."

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The silence only hung in the room for a brief moment after the door closed behind Garrison and the Captain. Goniff was the first to spout off, dropping his head onto his folded arms. "Wadda ya think o' this Captain bloke? I don't like 'im."

"The Warden don't like him much either." Chief drifted back to his seat on the window sill.

"What makes you say that?" Actor asked.

"Just a feelin'." Chief had noticed the tension in the Warden's stance and the slight rise in the timbre of his voice. There was a bad history there somewhere.

Goniff's head came up, and his eyes grew wide. "Ya know what? I heard one of the guards talkin' to the Sergeant Major the other day, all quiet like. 'E said 'e 'eard somethin' about the Warden gettin' promoted."

"Promoted? That's great! It's about time." Casino sounded like he thought there should be some kind of celebration involved, with booze and women.

"But what if 'e gets promoted right into a new job? Maybe this Price bloke is gonna be our new warden."

"Let's not jump to conclusions based on a scrap of gossip." As always, Actor was the voice of reason. "I think the Lieutenant would have said something to us if that were the case."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Casino pulled out of his slouch and leaned on the table. "Maybe it's not official yet. Maybe it's still in the works, and they're just givin' the Captain a dry run."

"Still all speculation, with absolutely no basis in fact."

Chief heard a thread of unease in Actor's voice. He felt it, too. In his experience, the men in charge were always making stupid decisions. Like Actor, he didn't give much credit to rumors. He'd wait and watch, give the Captain space, and take his cues from Garrison. He was definitely looking forward to finding whoever screwed up the La Capelle mission.

"I can tell you one thing for sure. It never fails." Casino tossed his spoon toward his empty coffee cup, and it struck with a clang. "We're gonna end up pullin' the Captain's ass out of the fire, or he's gonna get us killed tryin'."

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Garrison rubbed the spot on his forehead where the pounding headache had been growing all day. The fight on the obstacle course earlier certainly hadn't helped. If Captain Price hadn't been in the map room, he probably would have cuffed Chief and Casino to their chairs for the remainder of the briefing. As he led Price down the hallway to his office, he made a mental note to ask Actor about what might be bothering those two. But right now he felt more like that West Point plebe being dressed down by Cadet Sergeant Price, on the parade grounds, in front of the whole Company. And it bothered him.

He closed his office door and motioned Price to the chair in front of his desk. "Coffee?" he offered, pouring a cup from the morning's pot still sitting on the hot plate. "It's not very good, but it's the real stuff."

"Great, thanks." Price accepted the fine porcelain cup and took a sip.

Garrison leaned back into his own squeaky desk chair, sipping at his steaming cup, hoping it would do something to ease the throb behind his eyes. "So how long has it been? It was that joint training session at Catoctin a few years ago, right?"

"Yeah, that was a tough one. You seem to have fared alright. I heard you had a rough year in North Africa, though."

"We all did." Garrison was not in the mood to revisit that part of his life any more than he wanted to relive his years under Price at West Point.

Price glanced admiringly at the delicate coffee cup, then took in the spacious, antique-appointed office, with its oil paintings and oriental rug. "This is quite a set-up you've got here. How'd you score this?"

"Just lucky. It was available and had everything we needed."

"The isolation helps with security, I'm sure."

It took a split second for Garrison to comprehend what Price meant by security. It had been a while since he'd actually thought about his men 'escaping'. "It was an initial consideration, yes."

"I've read your reports." Price took a stack of folders out of his brief case. "It sounds like you've been doing some damage on the continent."

"We've had some success."

"You've had a few failures, too."

"You can't win them all. You know that."

"About your team." Price looked him squarely in the eye with undisguised skepticism, and separated four folders from the rest. "I've read those files, too. Mind helping me understand what you have here? Was that little fracas in the briefing a regular occurrence?"

"No, it wasn't. They've been on edge lately." Garrison leaned forward, commanding the West Point plebe back into the past, and prepared once again to defend his team.

"According to their files, they're all undisciplined common criminals." Price flipped open the top folder. "Actor, eight to ten years for sale of stolen goods across state lines. Tell me why you chose him."

"He was the best con artist in Europe, and was building a reputation in the states when he was arrested. He's smart, resourceful, speaks multiple languages fluently. He has some medical knowledge, and is a master of disguise. He makes a better German officer than most German officers. And he's a natural leader. The others trust him and will follow his lead."

"Can you tell when he's conning you?"

Garrison smiled. "Most of the time."

Price opened the second folder. "Goniff. Again, eight to ten years for sale of stolen goods across state lines."

"One of the best pickpockets around. He can lift your underwear while you're still wearing it, and scale the side of a building like a monkey. He's agile and stealthy, and he's good with locks."

"Looks like he has a weakness for shiny objects." Price flipped back through several pages, studying earlier reports.

Garrison was well aware of Goniff's sticky-fingered inclinations, but the implication still rankled him. "If you need it stolen, sir, Goniff's your man."

Price moved Goniff's file to the bottom of the stack and opened the third. "Casino. He's the one with the attitude, right? Ten years for armed bank robbery. Looks like he got into some trouble in prison, as well."

"Casino has a temper, but you'll always know where you stand with him. And he can be pretty intimidating. There's not a safe or lock on the planet he can't open, he has a solid knowledge of explosives and electronics, and he's not a bad con artist, either."

"He probably would've knocked that Indian's head off. You can control his temper? "

"Not all the time, no," Garrison had to admit. "But it's never jeopardized a mission."

Price opened the last folder. "And the Indian kid, Chief. Twenty to life for manslaughter. Looks like it could have been first degree murder except for some legal technicalities. He's a killer. Your safe cracker was lucky you stepped in when you did."

He bristled at Price's characterization of Chief. "First of all, he's not a kid. His talent with that knife has gotten us out of more than one bad situation. He's bright, observant, quick to learn, and the best scout I've ever seen. He knows cars and engines, and can hot-wire just about anything. And who else would you rather have watching your back than someone who's willing to kill when necessary?"

"As long as I know I can trust him watching my back." Price gave him a cold stare, then turned back to the folder. "I see where he came away from the ambush in Calais badly wounded. If it turns out Leitner was responsible, is that going to be a problem?"

"No." At least he hoped not.

"You let him keep the knife? You think you can trust him?"

"I do. With my life. Every time we cross the channel." Garrison thought the real question should be 'does he trust me', but he hoped he knew the answer. There was so much more he wanted to explain about each of them - things that couldn't be tallied in any report. But these were things his team had taught him over many months. Captain Price would have to learn for himself.

Price slapped the last folder closed and slid them all back into his brief case. "I'll tell you upfront, Craig, the scuttlebutt has it that you're being transferred."

"I've heard the rumors." But hearing Price say it out loud felt like a punch in the gut. "And you're being considered as my replacement?"

"I don't know. Maybe they don't intend to replace you. It all may hinge on my report."

Garrison wondered how many times he'd had to do this, defend the value of his men. He would continue to do it. He'd given them a promise, and he intended to keep it. "Look, David, these men are not soldiers, and I don't make them behave like soldiers. Despite what you saw just now, they're a solid team - we're a team. You've read all my reports. You know what kind of success we've had. They are very good at what they do."

David snapped his brief case closed and rose from his chair. "I was not happy when they gave me this assignment. I'm not used to working with men who can't take orders, and who are just as likely to kill me as look at me. But we're both stuck with it, Lieutenant. I'll meet you at the airfield tomorrow at 07:00."

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It wasn't Actor's soft snoring, or Goniff's occasional snort that kept Chief awake. He was accustomed to sleeping within earshot of other men's rough night noises. He had preferred the quiet of solitary, where all he had to deal with were the cold, the heat, the dampness, the hunger, and the hard floor. But during those times when he had to be in the general population, he had learned to avoid the closeness of others, while still being alert to their threat.

The blackout curtains left the room in near-total darkness, but he could still make out the shapes of the furniture and his teammates asleep on their cots. Actor occasionally stirred during the night, maybe troubled by whatever populated his dreams. Goniff was as still as the dead, rarely making a sound, but sometimes thrashing and throwing off his blanket. Casino slept soundly, but many nights his breathing would quicken, and he'd gasp and bolt upright, instantly awake. Chief could hear him slowly catch his breath, and then settle back into his blanket, as whatever terror had awakened him faded into the darkness. He wondered if his own nightmares ever woke the others.

Sitting up and leaning against the wall, he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. He rubbed at his neck where the wool scratched, and pulled up his collar as a buffer against the course fabric.

He didn't know what kept him awake tonight. Maybe the shadowy ache in his knee, or the occasional sting of his cut lip. Maybe the complete darkness where potential dangers could hide. The Warden would be rousting them in a couple of hours, to head for the airfield. Maybe it was the edgy energy he'd felt from Garrison that afternoon, or his own unsettling assessment of Captain Price. Casino was right - an outsider in the mix never turned out well. This time the outsider was a screw, and he liked that even less.

On the opposite side of the room, he heard a cot squeak, and Casino's rapid breathing and incoherent groans. This time he didn't wake, but continued to toss, as if trying to escape from some hellish vision. Chief dropped his blanket and padded across the cold floor until he touched Casino's arm.

Casino woke with a start, and grabbed his wrist.

"Take it easy, man." Chief whispered.

Casino blinked in confusion as his breathing slowed. "What time is it?

"Early."

"Yeah, okay. Not time to leave yet?"

"Not yet."

"What're you doin' up?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"You got a bad feelin' about this one, too, huh?"

"More than usual."

He couldn't see Casino's grin, but he could hear it. "Stick with me, kid. We'll pull it off."

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Chief made one last sweep of the woods around Henri's farmhouse, stopping briefly to replace some of the stones covering the dead Resistance fighter's grave in the orchard. He had a slightly foggy memory of that last disastrous mission to La Capelle, when Henri had lured them into a trap, and someone had ambushed them at Calais. But he smiled at the thought of Henri's son, Denis, and the boy's determination with the knife he'd given him. If he'd kept practicing, he should be pretty good with it by now.

South of the barley field, he encountered a German patrol. Six men and their lieutenant carried their weapons casually, joking and laughing as they moved slowly along the road past his hiding place. He waited until they were out of earshot before finishing his circuit, and returning to the farm yard.

Casino sat cross-legged in the shade of the old maple tree, leaning against its trunk, his rifle across his knees. "All quiet?"

"One small patrol heading south. More interested in what bar they're gonna hit tonight." Chief slid down the tree trunk to sit next to Casino, and took the canteen he was offered. "The well okay?"

"Yeah, the Krauts wrecked the house and barn but didn't bother with the well."

The water was cold and tasted of minerals. He poured some over his head, rinsing away the sweat.

"Hey, go easy with that! It's clean, but ain't unlimited!"

"Keep your shirt on. I'll refill it."

Casino snatched the canteen out of his hand and pushed to his feet, heading for the door. "Don't put yourself out, babe. Get your own water."

Chief sighed, combed his hand through his wet hair, and stood to followed Casino.

They heard the argument before they reached the open doorway. Captain Price didn't sound happy. "This is going in my report, Craig. Those two are convicted criminals, and they have no business operating alone in enemy territory."

"This is still my mission, Captain. My command, and my team." Garrison wasn't happy either. "Actor and Goniff are trained and experienced. They know what they're doing, and I trust them to get it done right. Most of all, the Maquis trust them. Actor will have the next meeting set up by the time we get there."

"Your trust is misplaced. It's gotten too personal for you with these men. What's to keep either of them from disappearing across the Swiss border, taking our money and our intelligence with them?"

"Nothing," Garrison admitted. It may have sounded like a concession, but Chief could picture the flash in the Warden's eyes. "Maybe the fact that they've never done it before. And believe me, there have been plenty of opportunities."

Casino's boot crunched on broken glass as he stepped into the doorway, and both officers turned to glare at them. Garrison gathered his composure and started to speak, but Price beat him to it, turning his angry gaze on Chief. "Report, son."

Chief looked past Price to the Warden, and received a brief nod. "One small patrol heading south."

Price sounded perturbed with the sparse information. "What about observation positions for tomorrow's meeting?"

"There's a rise in the woods east of here, has pretty good sight lines to the yard."

"Okay. I'll go check it out." Price grabbed his jacket from where it was thrown across a chair, and started out the door, pushing past Casino.

"Hey, Captain, forgettin' somethin'?" Casino picked up the rifle leaning against the door frame and handed it to him. Price snatched it from his hand and stormed out the door.

Garrison stood for a moment, hands on his hips, then drew in a breath and let it out slowly

"Trouble in paradise, Warden?" Casino smiled.

"You two just do your jobs and let me handle the Captain. Tell me more about that patrol, Chief."

"Six guys, one lieutenant, on foot, heading away from us."

"Okay, good. It looks like they tossed this place for whatever they could find, then forgot it." Garrison picked up a couple of the overturned chairs and set them at the battered table. "Here's tomorrow's plan..."

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They materialized quietly out of the woods, one at a time, or in pairs. Some drove, leaving their cars farther out on the road. Most were on foot. Two arrived by horse-drawn cart. From where he watched through binoculars, Chief counted twelve men and two women, all armed to some degree. They were farmers, laborers, business men, tradesmen, all ordinary Frenchmen until Hitler took their country. He recognized Andre, the cell leader, a man they'd worked with a couple of times - tall, lean, charismatic, and just a little crazy. That's probably why he and the Warden worked so well together. He also knew a couple of the others, Andre's close lieutenants.

"Which one is the leader?" Price asked, sitting to his left, watching through his own binoculars.

"In the black beret," Garrison answered. He sat on Price's other side, also closely observing the activity in the farm yard below. "Andre's not involved."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Chief heard Casino approaching through the woods before he saw him. He'd been scouting around the farmstead, looking for signs of trouble, but now he slid to the ground beside Chief and took the binoculars. "Our traitor turn up yet?"

Price glared at Casino. "Anything to report, mister?"

Casino snapped a smart salute. "Sir, no, sir! Nothing, sir!"

"Knock it off, Casino."

Casino rolled his eyes. "No sign of Krauts, Warden. Just the birds and the bees."

Price straightened suddenly. "That's him."

Garrison raised his own binoculars. "Which one?"

"Just entering the yard from the north, in the plaid shirt."

Chief took his binoculars back from Casino, and refocused on the now-crowded farm yard. He wasn't sure how he expected a traitor to look, but this wasn't it. Theodore Leitner was short, plump, and balding, dressed like a peasant and wearing wire-rimmed glasses. He didn't carry any obvious weapons. The others greeted him warmly, with back slaps and hand shakes.

As the meeting got underway, Chief caught only snatches of the French, and wondered what excuse Andre had invented to justify such a large gathering of underground rebels. He could feel Price's tension escalate. The Captain fidgeted, as if he wanted to rush down the hill and personally strangle the man. Chief would gladly have joined him if the Warden had given the word. But for the moment he watched, thinking of what the Germans would do to the guy when they discovered he'd passed on false intelligence. It would probably be a lot more painful than a quick shiv in the back.

Whatever Andre had to say to his cell took only fifteen minutes. They began their good-byes and slowly departed as they'd arrived, one by one, or in small groups, heading in all directions.

"That's it. We have our man." Price stood and started to issue orders, but Garrison cut him off.

"Chief, do another perimeter sweep, make sure everyone's gone. David, you stay here. We can't risk Leitner seeing you. Casino, you're with me. I'm going down to talk to Andre."

Price's eyes flashed anger, but Garrison didn't back down. "My team, Captain. My mission."

Price took a step back. "Have it your way, Lieutenant."

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All the cars should have been gone by now, but Chief still heard an engine, so he headed for the road first. The large covered truck sat idling a half mile out from the farm house, the driver waiting patiently. Chief crouched in the underbrush, an uneasy knot forming in his gut. Then the bald little traitor walked into view from around the curve. He jumped into the truck, and it pulled out, headed for the farm house. The back of the truck was full of armed men.

Chief took off at a dead run. There were too many for him to handle alone, and he had to warn Garrison. He skidded to a halt next to the Captain, his eyes on the farm yard below. "It's a trap! Leitner has a crew movin' in..."

They both saw it happening even as he said it. The truck swerved into view, and Leitner leapt out, his rifle trained on Garrison. The others swarmed from the back, completely surrounding the small farm yard, encircling Garrison, Casino, and Andre at the center.

Casino reacted instinctively, raising his automatic weapon to the threat. A single shot threw him to the ground. Another shot took out Andre. Leitner shouted before anyone else fired, leaving Garrison standing alone, surrounded by Leitner's men and two bodies.

Chief brought his weapon up, ready to blast them all to hell, but Price grabbed the barrel and pushed it down. "No! We're outnumbered. They'll kill him and us, too."

Chief stopped breathing. The Captain was right. He could only grip his rifle and watch helplessly as Garrison's arms were wrenched behind his back and bound tightly, and Casino bled out into the dirt.

After an eternity of listening to his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, when the truck was finally out of sight, Chief bolted away from Price, half running, half sliding through the trees, down the hill to Casino.

Dark blood spread across the left arm of Casino's shirt and collected in a pool under his shoulder. Chief laid a hand on his chest, felt the faint heartbeat, the shallow rise of breathing, and he collapsed to his knees. Casino was alive but out cold, a gash behind his left ear dripping into another puddle of blood.

Price came up behind him and spoke softly. "The cell leader's dead."

"Help me get him inside."

"Look, kid..."

"Alright, don't help." Chief lifted Casino's dead weight to a sitting position, pulled him across his shoulders, and carefully stood, gathering his balance before heading for the farmhouse door. Casino groaned at the sudden movement.

The single cot in the far corner of the room was littered with broken pieces of furniture and pottery left over from the Germans' ransacking. Chief kicked most of it to the floor before lowering Casino onto the bare, thin mattress. The bullet wound was high on his arm, straight through the muscle, and blood quickly soaked into the mattress.

He heard the crunch of Price's boots on the broken glass behind him. "Get me the first aid kit," he demanded, tearing Casino's shirt away from the bloody hole.

Price hesitated.

"Get it!"

At least the Captain had the presence of mind to bring him a canteen along with the first aid kit, and he set about cleaning both bullet holes and the cut, dressing them with sulfa powder and gauze.

As Chief tightened the bandage around Casino's arm, he groaned and stirred, and his eyes came open. It took him a second to focus. "What happened?"

"Another ambush. They took the Warden."

"Took him? Took him where?"

"Don't know that yet."

"Well what are we waitin' for?" Casino tried to sit, until the pain stopped him. He gasped out an oath, falling back to the cot.

"Take it easy. I just stopped the bleeding."

"How the hell did this happen again? Are we wearin' a big sign or somethin'?"

Captain Price stepped to the end of the cot. "Do you think you can travel? We need to start heading for the coast."

Either Casino didn't hear the Captain, or he ignored him. "Andre might know where..."

"Andre's dead."

"Ah shit." Casino took a deep breath.

"We need to get Actor and Goniff back..." Chief suggested.

"There's no time for that..."

Price tried again to get their attention. "You can't be serious. You're not thinking of trying to rescue Garrison?"

"We don't leave without the Warden," Chief told him.

"He's beyond your help. You'll never get him away from the Germans. You're under my command now, and this mission is over. We're heading for Calais."

Casino tried again to rise. Chief took his good arm and pulled it over his shoulder, supporting him while he stood and found his balance. He felt Casino's muscles stiffen, resisting the pain that was evident in his voice. "Sorry, Captain. Garrison is our commander. You can either help us or walk to Calais by yourself."

"You two are crazier than he is. You can hardly be in the same room together without trying to kill each other. How do you plan to rescue Garrison together?"

Casino smiled. "Watch and learn, Captain."

gg gg gg gg gg gg

Price caved in too easily. He'd put up a few arguments against their plan, but in the end had agreed to help. His fluency in German and French could be an asset, but Chief would much rather not have the man at his back. There were too many other things to worry about.

After Chief immobilized Casino's arm as securely as possible, and convinced him to swallow all the aspirin from the first aid kit, they'd made the trek to La Capelle, stopping only once for Casino to catch his breath while Chief re-bandaged his wound. They'd found Roland, Andre's second-in-command, at the dress shop he owned, and filled him in on what had happened. Plans for Andre's burial would have to wait. Roland was stunned and angry, and as anxious to free Garrison as they were. And he had the resources they needed - a vehicle, weapons, and contacts who could find out where the Germans were holding Garrison and what their plans were. The good news was that they planned to move him to Gestapo headquarters in Calais. The bad news was that it wasn't to be until the next day, and Garrison was at the Germans' mercies for the night. The jail facility was too well guarded and fortified to break into. It was a night when neither of them got much sleep.

Now Chief looked over at Casino, sitting to his left in the undergrowth at the side of the road, and worried that he looked too pale. He nudged him and handed him the canteen. "You need to drink."

"Then I'll have to piss just as the convoy gets here," Casino griped.

"You've lost a lot of blood."

Casino was getting annoyed. That was a good sign. "Where'd you learn all this boy scout stuff?"

"First aid training. You'd've learned it too if you hadn't been hung over."

Casino accepted the canteen and took a long swallow. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and handed the canteen back.

"You okay?" Chief asked.

"No, I'm not okay! I got a bullet hole in my arm that hurts like hell and the Warden's gettin' the crap beat outta him by the Krauts. Why would I be okay?"

"Just checkin'."

Casino shifted his weight and tried to release and reload the magazine in his hand gun for the third time. The effort elicited a groan.

"It's still loaded," Chief assured him.

What little patience Casino had was wearing thin. "They should be here by now."

As if on cue, there it was - the distant whine of engines. It sounded like three jeeps. If their luck held, the Germans would follow their usual routine for transporting prisoners, and Garrison would be in the middle one. Chief whistled to get Roland's attention down the road, and heard the answering whistle. Then they waited.

The first jeep rounded the curve, followed by an open officer's staff car, and then another jeep. This plan needed to work the way it had in the past, because they weren't going to get a second chance. Garrison was in the back of the staff car, flanked by Leitner and a Kraut major. As they got closer, Chief could see the bruises on his face, his slumped posture, and his closed eyes. He hoped the Warden was conscious enough to realize what was happening and take cover.

His grenade and Roland's exploded simultaneously, destroying the lead and rear jeeps, then the firing started. Beside him, Casino was holding his own with the hand gun. Exposed and flanked, the German guards fell one after the other to the barrage from both sides of the road.

Then it all stopped as abruptly as it had started, leaving the stench of gun powder clinging to the morning air.

Price was the first to break cover, running for the staff car. He pulled the body of Theodore Leitner out of his way, and reached to help a semiconscious Garrison from the back seat. Chief sprinted toward them. Casino was right behind him.

Price dragged Garrison from the car and grabbed him from behind, one arm across his chest, the other hand pressing a gun to his temple. "Stop right there, gentlemen. Drop your weapons."

Roland stepped from the tree line on the other side of the car, rifle raised, but Price flashed his gun out and shot him in the chest. Then the gun was immediately back at Garrison's temple.

With the flood of understanding came the sudden flare of rage. Chief forced himself into a tense control and threw his rifle to the ground. Just behind him he heard Casino swear and drop his gun, too. The quiet in Casino's voice was almost as chilling as his anger. "You filthy traitor. It was you all along, directing everything from the safety of the states."

"And no one ever caught on. Then the idiots gave me this ridiculous assignment."

Chief's attention was on Garrison. He was slumped against Price, who was supporting him solely by the vice grip across his chest. There was dried blood in his hair, and down the front of his torn shirt. His hands were still bound behind him, and his eyes were closed. There was no indication that he was aware of his surroundings.

"I don't get it," Casino continued. "Why not just kill us all and get it over with?"

"Don't think I didn't consider it." Price's grin revealed an evil Chief had seen on men from both sides of the prison bars. He'd recognized it during that first briefing, it had kept him awake that night, and he'd ignored his instincts.

"I thought I might be able to use you," Price continued, never letting the bore of the gun waver. "General Fremont was considering giving me command of your unit. He just needed a little more incentive. This way I eliminate a troublesome problem for my German friends, hand over a valuable prize, and fall into an even better position to feed them intelligence. But then you two heroes decided you just had to rescue him."

Chief was only half listening to Price babble - his focus remained on Garrison. He was conscious, he was aware. His eyes opened to slits, and he looked at Chief. A corner of his mouth twitched, and he nodded imperceptibly.

Chief silently slipped the knife into his hand, shielded behind his leg, and eased it open. Every muscle tensed. It would happen fast.

Garrison slammed his boot heel down onto Price's instep, and dropped out of the loosened grip, dodging to the ground.

Chief's knife hit Price in the heart.

gg gg gg gg gg gg

A strip of faint peach glowed on the horizon where the dark sky met the darker waters of the English Channel. Chief wondered if there was enough red in the color for sailors to take the proverbial warning. The morning air smelled of salt and seaweed, and the fresh northeasterly breeze could signal a coming storm. If so, Goniff would make their trip back to England a miserable one, but at the moment the little pickpocket seemed to have dozed off where he'd flopped next to a tree.

Chief swept the horizon one more time through the binoculars, then stepped back from the narrow, rocky beach, to the edge of the tree line. "No sign of the boat yet, Warden."

"It's early. We'll give them another hour."

Chief lowered himself to the sand next to his commander. Actor had treated the cuts above Garrison's eyebrow and on his chin, but the dark circles under his eyes and the stillness in his voice betrayed his exhaustion. "You alright?" Chief asked.

"Yeah. I was just thinking of Andre's family. And Roland's."

Actor approached quietly from the shadow of the trees and sat on Garrison's other side. "The cells will need to go dark for a while, until things settle down."

"It's going to take a long time to repair the damage," Garrison agreed, rubbing absently at the scab above his right eye. "How's Casino?"

"Sleeping for the moment. You did a good job with his wounds, Chief. He should regain full use of his arm."

"Yeah, well, he didn't make it easy." Chief raised the binoculars and swept the brightening horizon again.

Garrison shifted and sat a little straighter, glancing to Actor on his left, then leveling his gaze on Chief. "I'm glad you two worked out your differences long enough to pull me out. Care to fill me in on what's been going on between you two?"

Chief itched under the Warden's scrutiny. "Nothin'."

"You sure?"

"I said nothin', alright?" Chief snapped. "He's just..." There wasn't a word. He was just Casino.

Actor chuckled. "Odd. Casino said the same thing."

The bobbing black dot against the peach-colored sky was the distraction he needed. "There's the boat. Let's get outta here."

With the pen light, Garrison signaled their position to the small, inflatable landing craft, while Actor and Chief roused the others. They carried only their weapons and the clothes on their backs, so it was just a matter of wading knee deep into the surf and scrambling aboard. With only one good arm, the climb was awkward for Casino. Chief laced his fingers together and offered a boost, and his strong heave lifted Casino over the gunwale to fall gracelessly onto his injured arm.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Back off, dad..."

"That's it, Geronimo. One more crack outta you..."

"Guys!" All of Garrison's authority was back. "At least wait until we get home."


End file.
